Timeless
by mjoInir
Summary: Victoria is a time traveler, and she accidentally lands right in the middle of World War II.
1. Zero

**Act One**

 **Epigraph**  
❝ _how beautifully are we_  
 _that so many things can_  
 _take but a moment_  
 _to alter who we are_  
 _for forever?_ ❞  
—Samuel Decker Thompson

Theme Music: _**Back in Time**_ , _Back to the Future_ soundtrack

 **Playlist**  
 _ **Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy**_ The Andrew Sisters | _**Sing, Sing, Sing**_ Benny Goodman | _**In the Mood**_ Glenn Miller |

* * *

Zero  
The Time Stone  
 _February, 1993_

Cyra de Custos, Queen of Stellos, the Powerful, the descendant of Stella — the First Queen — and Stelian, son to the Custians, stepped away from the now cloaked two person spaceship.

Terra was not necessarily unfamiliar to her, as when she was only a child, it was her duty to visit as many planets as possible before her coronation. This formed a well-rounded Queen, one who was well informed of the cultures of the different systems within the cosmos.

Osric de Sol, Universal Advisor to the Queen, son to Sol, and grandson to the Custians. He and Cyra were distant cousins, however he was much older.

"And you were positive it's here?" asked Cyra, glancing at Osric, ignoring the odd glances they were getting from the natives of the Tibetan city.

Osric glanced at her, and with a grin told her, "Have I ever served you wrong?"

Cyra pursed her lips before turning back to the door of the Kamar-Taj. The heat was warm on her back, an uncommon — to Cyra — humidity in the air. Her dress danced in the wind like waves in an ocean, only pieces of her hair braided, the rest flowing in the wind.

"Do...we knock?"

Osric laughed heartily, throwing his head back. "I'll fill you in on The Ancient One when we depart back to Stellos. I'm sure she knows we're here."

Cyra raised an eyebrow at the man, before starting towards the door. "What a strange planet."

* * *

"I beg your pardon?"

"The time stone — I need to borrow it." said the Queen, sipping at her tea.

The Ancient One blinked, staring at Cyra and then Osric. She knew they were serious, she doubted they traveled all this way for a simple joke. And they hadn't decided to steal it — surely with their powers verses those in Kamar-Taj it would certainly be an interesting battle.

"I know of your fear," started the Queen, with an empathetic smile, "the stone has been in the protection of your people for a very long time. However, this is necessary."

The Ancient One cocked her head to the side at the mention of _necessary_.

"Since it has been in your possession, I assume you have used it? To see the possible futures?"

The Ancient One nodded, glancing over at Osric, who, being his nosy self, was poking around the room they were in. His yellow, borderline golden, attire reflected the retiring sun.

"I have a growing fear myself," said Cyra. "The Infinity Stones, well, they invite challenge; they invite those seeking power. I'm glad they are scattered and decently protected as of now, but I still fear for the cosmos."

Being the Queen of Stellos she came to fear the Stones falling into the wrong hands. All of them together could easily spell the end of everything. They had basically created the universe in the right hands, it would be as easy as snapping ones fingers to make it all fall apart.

Her daughter, Astraea, had come into contact with the Soul Stone and she affirmed that that stone could easily defend itself — as it basically had an existence all its own. She ordered Astraea to send the Stone off to a faraway, forgotten planet and tell _no one,_ only a map to tell of its secrets. Astraea made sure the Stone would be the hardest to secure, as the greatest sacrifice would be required to acquire it. The other Stones, well, she couldn't speak much for them; they were scattered in unknown locations. She assumed them to be safe.

"I fear something approaches." said Cyra, looking at the Ancient One. "There needs to be someone to be able to turn it all back, if necessary."

"Someone else to wield the Stone?" inquired the Ancient One.

"Oh, no, the Stone is safe enough among your sorcerers. I know they would die to protect it. I'm saying use the Stone to bring forward a life formed from its power."

The Ancient One sat back in thought, staring at the two. "To ensure the safety of the cosmos?"

Cyra nodded, and Osric went to stand beside her. They glanced at each other — they had to respect the Ancient One's power. They couldn't be pushy.

"I haven't been able to see beyond one moment in my future. Every scenario leads to it. I can not say if any threat comes to them during the time after. But I believe in your judgement and I respect you coming to ask." she paused. "I only ask one thing, to come and ensure the Stone's safety myself."

Cyra nodded, "Of course."

* * *

"Very few will be able to carry to term," said Osric. "However, I located a mutant, who heals quite fast and she's the best shot."

Cyra pursed her lips. "Capable? Reliant? Good?"

"A good heart, surely." affirmed Osric. "She's been trying to conceive."

Cyra smiled, "A little miracle then."

With Osric's help, it was not hard to locate the woman and her husband. And after handing the Stone over the Cyra and Osric, together, they brought forward a life within the woman's womb. It wasn't all that hard — the Time Stone was a very powerful thing, capable of all sorts of miraculous things.

And just nine short months later, Victoria Elizabeth McAllister was born.


	2. One

**» One «**  
 **To the 40's**

It was April 02, 2013, at 18:01 (counting in military time made her life easier) Eastern Standard Time. Dates and times came very easily to her, like blinking or breathing. It was very subtle at first, seconds ticking away in her head almost unconsciously, like a human clock. When she realized her internal clock was frighteningly precise, she began testing herself. It turned into "what if's", which turned into her turning back her internal clock, which — _surprisingly_ — turned back time.

At the time, Victoria was only in high school, so like any high school senior (given the chance), she started cheating on her exams, skipped doing homework because she could always do it last minute after figuring out the answers. Her C's and B's turned into A's. All this, of course, was before she knew the Four Golden Rules (which, _honestly_ , were more like guidelines):

1\. Using the power for your own gain is a big no-no  
2\. Never reveal you're from the future  
3\. Try to never cross paths with your past (or future) self  
4\. Above all, never alter the universal balance

A man — calling himself "The Mystic" — had told her all this when she had turned eighteen, which was just over three years ago. She had not seen him since, or did she really know if she wanted to.

"Miss?"

Victoria looked up from the diner menu, spotting a red-head, whose hair came down in waves just passed her shoulders, and a muscular looking man. She definitely did not know them. The woman was dressed slightly casual, compared to the suit and tie wearing man. Victoria raised a critical eyebrow.

"You're tough to locate." said the woman, with a gentle smile, "My name is Natasha R—"

Victoria stood immediately. She had her own Golden Rule: steer clear of any _and all_ agencies. They would use her for their own gain, and she was not very fond of that idea. Or even worse, brainwashing to become a mindless puppet, only ever following orders.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Victoria said, hurrying towards the door.

She could feel them follow after her; the door chimed again after she had left the diner, which pushed her into a fast walk. She moved across towards 43rd street.

"We can't let her get away!"

Victoria began sprinting, her heart beating erratically in her chest. They wanted her, for what, she was not all that sure. Her mind was racing, the clock in her head ticking away the seconds.

 _43rd_ , she thought, crossing the street, the number echoing in her head. 43rd.

 _43_.

* * *

Time spun back quickly, and she quickly realized her anxiety had sent her back in time. Usually it took thought to send her back, and actual effort, or to "jump" (as she eventually started referring to the time-travel). She had to think and focus in on my current time to the time she wanted to go back to.

Her head was killing me, pounding worse than a migraine. Jumping back a far amount of time, unprepared, usually led to a lot of pain.

"Sweetie? Hello?" The voice stirred Victoria from my thoughts, her accent noticeably British. "Can you hear me?"

Victoria groaned, noticing the dry air and the undeniable heat.

"What is your name?"

She opened my eyes slowly, finding a face above her, tanned from the sun. Her brown hair was slightly frizzy, but she did not look bad — perhaps in her late thirties.

"Victoria McAllister," She said lowly, scrunching her eyebrows in pain.

"Okay, Victoria, do you know how you got here?"

"Where exactly is _here_?"

The woman looked confused, "Honey, do you not know where you are?"

She shook my head, daring to sit up. She was in a large tent, the ground dirt. She was on a cot, other beds spread in both directions.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked, grabbing the clipboard at the end of the cot.

Victoria shrugged, deciding to play the amnesia case until she was strong enough to jump back to her present.

Her stomach was rolling, nausea sitting in her gut and refusing to leave. She felt lightheaded, and her chest felt tight. _Time sickness_ , she thought to herself. Control was definitely a thing she needed to continue to work on.

"Okay, Victoria," she wrote briefly on the clipboard. "I'm Nurse Weyland, but you can call me Amelia if that makes you more comfortable." she paused, glancing up from the clipboard at Victoria, "I'm going to go get you something to eat, but when I get back, I'm going to ask you a few questions."

Victoria nodded, watching her walk away. Jumping without thought was dangerous — she could have landed _anywhere_. In the middle of the Pacific Ocean, or Guam, or on the peak of Mt Everest at any time: 1900, or 1800, even 1200BCE, if she wasn't careful. However jumping back that far could potentially be fatal to her since she was generally out-of-practice when it came to jumping back far. And although she was very curious about all the different periods, it had been a struggle to even get to the 20's (she had wanted to go to celebrate her 21st birthday, and well, I spent more time nursing a headache than drinking).

Once her migraine started to pound less, the date immediately came to the forefront of her mind: _May 03, 1943_.

 _Oh, fantastic_ , she thought to herself, _right smack in the middle of a war. Fuck me._

It could have been worse, though, she could have landed right in the middle of a battle. Instead, she had landed in Africa, she had come to realize. Her history knowledge was not at all impressive, she had to think hard about if the Allied forces had actually fought any battles in Africa during the war.

Amelia came back with a small tray, which contained one half of a sandwich and a small cup of water. She placed it on top of Victoria's thighs and then sat at the edge of the bed.

Tentatively, Victoria picked up the cup and sipped slowly on the warm water. In the middle of Africa, she had been stupid to imagine it being cold and refreshing. She started in on the sandwich next, noticing a mystery meat laying between both pieces of bread. Her eyes flickered up to meet Amelia's brown eyes before taking a careful bite. It was not exactly horrible, but she was in no way accustomed to such food. She swallowed slowly, hoping the heat had not spoiled the food — but at least she was in the medical tent if she happened to fall ill.

"So Miss McAllister—"

"If I can call you Amelia, you can call me Victoria."

Amelia smiled, "Victoria, do you know where you were born?"

"Bronx, New York. To answer your _presumed_ next question, I grew up in West Haven, Connecticut." she told her.

Amelia nodded, "Do you know how you got here? In Africa?"

She bit my lip, her eyebrows furrowing, "Um, I'm not sure how I got _here_ ," she said, her mind racing, "but I was with a group. We were studying and classifying plants and animals."

 _What a shit reason_ , Victoria told herself.

Amelia raised an eyebrow, "Is that how you ended up in a war zone?"

She swallowed slowly, pursing my lips, "I was being chased, _yeah_! I was being chased by coyotes and I passed out from heat exhaustion?"

Amelia continued writing everything down on the clipboard, before she looked up at Victoria with a frown. "You poor thing, do you have any idea where your group might be?"

"We weren't even supposed to be here," Victoria said.

"In Tunisia?"

 _So that's where I was_.

Victoria nodded, "We were supposed to steer clear, but uh, my group leader guy really wanted to study some of the animals — said we'd be fine. I think they were headed to the coast, to see some whales."

Amelia nodded and she hoped Amelia believed her. She needed her to before she could even begin to think to get back on her feet and get back to 2013.

"How are you feeling?" Amelia asked next.

Victoria thought for a moment, "My head still hurts, I feel a bit nauseated, very tired." she shrugged, they were common time-travel related illnesses (at least, far jumps), "Tiny bit dizzy, but other than that, I'm okay."

Amelia pursed her lips and nodded, "Well, our supply run is in a few days, you should be well by then. Hopefully, we can ship you off with them — get you back home."

"Thank you," she told her. A few days would give her enough time to heal and get the hell out of the forties.

* * *

The following morning, with the unyielding African sun beating down, being in the tent was stuffy and almost unbearable. There was a slow breeze, which was still warm but it made the tent considerably better to stay in.

There was still a dull pain in the back of Victoria's head, and she knew she was not quite strong enough to make the trip back.

Amelia had given her a change of clothes, probably having an issue with the strange t-shirt and skinny jeans Victoria was wearing, something she did not recognize. She gave her a spare shirt and nurse slacks.

"Nurse!" called someone from the other end of the tent, which peaked Victoria's interest.

Victoria started to where the man had shouted, knowing she probably should have stayed on her cot, but she was undeniably curious, and plenty bored. Amelia warned Victoria about the soldiers, seeing as they had not seen women in a long time and would probably try to get with her in one way or another. Victoria's reflexes were considerably quicker than normal, so she did not worry about it much.

There was a man, laying unconscious on one of the cots, his upper shoulder bandaged but his wound was bleeding quite heavily.

Amelia, along with another nurse, quickly rushed over to access the damage. Victoria watched along carefully, standing well out of their way. Amelia unwrapped the bandage, and she could see a bullet wound that was bleeding.

"It's a through and through," said Amelia, sounding almost relieved.

Amelia and the other nurse started cleaning the wound and then began stitching it up. They re-wrapped his shoulder, positioning his arm carefully.

That was when Amelia took notice to Victoria, "A bit stir-crazy, are you?"

Victoria nodded simply.

She glanced down at the soldier, "Well, I suppose he could use some company."

Victoria sat in the stool Amelia had been using to stitch up the soldier, and looked down at him. He looked to be about in his mid-twenties, with short, dark stubble along his defined jaw. His skin was tanned, much like Amelia's, from his long hours under the sun. He had dark brown hair, appearing almost black in the shadow of the tent. She stopped studying him and turned her eyes away.

 _I'd be lying if I didn't admit he was handsome_ , she told herself with a tiny smile, before shaking her head. He would undeniably be in pain when he woke.

Noticing a book under the bed the soldier was on, Victoria grabbed it. _The Grapes of Wrath_ , by John Steinbeck. Not necessarily a book she would go out of my way to read, but she had nothing better to do, considering staring at an unconscious man was not exactly polite.

About an hour later, her eyes growing tired from staring at the pages, the man stirred. When her eyes flicked up to his face, Victoria noticed he was staring at her. His eyes were a grey-blue and were seamlessly captivating.

"Hiya, Soldier," she said, breaking the silence.

His eyebrows scrunched together, "You look familiar."

Victoria raised an eyebrow at him, "Really?" She knew _for certain_ she had never met this man before. She was actually pretty good with faces, she figured it would probably be useful, and the Mystic told her to try and not run into someone from the past too much. They'd eventually catch on that something was awry (and that was a mess he thoroughly explain he was never in the mood to help deal with).

He nodded and Victoria shrugged.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," she told him with another shrug.

He sighed as he sat up, glancing at his shoulder. He looked back over at her. "Are you a nurse?"

Victoria shook my head, "No, I'm just staying until I'm well again." It wasn't exactly a lie, it just happened to be withholding certain truths.

He raised a careful eyebrow at her, "You're not well?"

She pursed my lips and hummed, "Passed out from heat exhaustion," she explained. "I'm staying until the supply run, which is when I'll be able to go home."

"So," something seemed to click in his head and he smiled at me, "what's a pretty dame like you doing out here in Africa?"

Victoria grinned at him — _oh, the flattery of a 1940's man_. "Research trip, got _lost_ and then Am—Nurse Weyland found me."

He nodded at me, before sticking his hand out for me to shake, his left (his right being the one with the injured shoulder). "Sergeant James Barnes, but call me Bucky."

She raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but did not question him. Instead, she shook his hand, "Victoria McAllister, but call me Tori."

Before the handshake ended, Bucky raised her hand to his lips, causing her to blush. After he let go, she rolled my eyes at the man.

She got up from the stool, placing the book in her place.

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"Oh, you'll see me around, Sergeant,"


	3. Two

**» Two «**  
 **Data**

The following morning, the pain in the back of her head was almost completely gone — making her internal clock begin to tick unconsciously again. She had to pull her hair back into a braid, which cooled her slightly from the heat.

After what one _could_ consider a breakfast in the middle of a war, Victoria went to see if there was any more books to be found. Among some paperwork, she discovered a book on new types of medicines, probably from one of the fresh faced nurses she had seen wandering around (not at all looking battle worn like Amelia did).

Victoria made her way over to Bucky's cot, which was near the other side of the tent, finding him with his eyes closed and his hands intertwined on his stomach. She sat down quietly next to him and opened the book, beginning to read silently.

"Victoria,"

"James," she said, not looking up from the pages.

He chuckled, "Why do I always find you reading?"

"Always is a bit extreme, but," she met his stormy eyes, "not much else to do."

He gave an agreed nod, sitting up, being careful of his shoulder.

"Who has my book?!" called a nurse towards the front of the tent.

Carefully, not making too many movements, Victoria slipped the book under the stool. Bucky, who had watched her the entire time, let out a good laugh — a hearty one. Her lips turned upwards into a grin, a slight blush on her cheeks. She had no idea the fate of the soldier laying in front of her, but she was happy to make him laugh, _genuinely_ laugh. War was hell, and could mentally destroy even the strongest of humanity.

They began talking, his attention focused on her and not on his injured brothers around him, or the pain he must've been in. She let him lead their conversation, worried she would let something slip up about the future or about the war. He talked about growing up in Brooklyn with his best friend — Steve — and all the things he and they did. He talked about what he wanted to do when the war was over, but his eyes darkened at the mention of the war.

She could not tell him that the Allies actually ended up winning the war, but she felt such a need to reassure him. "I'm sure we'll win."

"You think?"

 _I know_. "Yes."

"So what're you going home to? Husband? Children?"

"A small, empty apartment," she told him honestly.

"Where do you live?" He paused, "I hope that's not creepy,"

She chuckled lightly, "Not at all — I live in Manhattan," _Back in 2013_ , she thought to herself.

"Ah, a New York girl," he smiled.

"Born in the Bronx, moved to West Haven, then moved to Manhattan when I turned eighteen," she revealed. "And you? What're you going to go home to?"

He pursed his lips, "About the same as you,"

She nodded in acknowledgement, glancing away from his face to look at a new soldier being brought in. A few nurses surrounded him and eventually they hauled him away to be seen by a surgeon.

"Some other soldier isn't going to steal you away?"

Her eyes flickered back to Bucky, smiling at him, "Until that supply run, my attention is all yours."

Bucky smiled in a relieved sort of way, his tense shoulders now relaxed — his wound healing nicely. Amelia had informed him that as long as he didn't tear his stitches, he would be sent back out soon.

* * *

Unfortunately, the time came for her to return back to her present. She felt such a need to say a goodbye to Bucky, she owed him that much for keeping her company.

As she approached him, guilt ate at her insides. He had a big, goofy grin on his face — delighted to see her, as he had been the times before. She could not stay, she _knew_ that, this was a war after all, not a scenario where she could play her options out with this man.

She sighed as she sat down beside him, and she could tell he knew what this was by the falter in his smile.

 _I like him_ , she admitted to myself, staring at him with a tiny frown. _After only a few days, how pathetic am I?_

"The supply run." was all he said at first. "Well, I suppose the good times always have to come to an end."

"Don't make it seem like that," she said, glancing away from him, unsure exactly what to say. How could she comfort him? Would he end up becoming a veteran with undiagnosed PTSD? Would he end up dying in battle? Victoria felt sick at the thought.

"But it is like that, doll. It _is_ like that." he said, bitter undertones to it, probably not to offend her — she had no idea how long he had been fighting bloody battles, where friends died needlessly beside him. "I'll be sent back in a matter of a week or two, and that won't change."

Victoria took a long breath to steady her erratic heart. She knew it was wrong, but it seemed the best course of action was to make it seem like she didn't exist. Amelia would probably be just as confused. Make it seem like she was just a fever dream. It was undeniably cruel, but he needed to focus on staying alive and not on some girl he met in a medical tent.

"Your fever seems to have gone," she said in an airy voice, glancing away from his face again. She was not even sure if he'd had a fever in the first place, but she guessed anyways.

"What?"

She looked back at him, with a sad smile. "Good luck out there."

Thinking clearly on her present, on April 1, 2013 — on her Manhattan apartment. She began fading from 1943 with sad eyes as Bucky watched in horror, perhaps with the idea that she wasn't actually real and he had simply imagined her.

It was heartbreaking to watch.

* * *

Opening her closed eyes to avoid looking at Bucky as she disappeared, she came to realize she was in her apartment. Just as she planned. She sighed in relief, but her heart hurt. Messing with the past and the people within it was always tricky business — one thing could alter the entirety of the future; the fragility of it all.

"Jesus, Vic, you scared me,"

Victoria jumped, turning around to see Elliot on the couch with his laptop in his lap. She placed a hand over her heart, taking a deep breath.

He chuckled, "Looks like I scared you too,"

She nodded, her lips breaking out into a smile. "Sorry, El, unplanned trip."

He nodded, eyes flickering down to his laptop screen and then back to the red-head. He did not necessarily live with her, but he bounced around from place-to-place, and eventually she just gave him a key. He was quirky and introverted, but she trusted him and he left money around for her (she told him he really didn't need to, but it _did_ help with groceries, so she just started appreciating it).

"Ooh? Where?"

"1943."

He let out a low whistle, "Damn, V, World War II? Fuck."

"It wasn't _planned_ ," she reasoned, "got one of my jump-migraines and was stuck there for a bit."

"In a war zone?"

"Border of one," she paused, thinking, "It was a medical tent."

He pursed his lips, typing away.

"So, El, crazy, totally _just_ a curious question," she stepped closer to the couch, "would you be able to...get a social security number for the late 30's? Or money? Or clothes? Or...uh...a nursing license or whatever?"

He broke out into a grin, "Why ya askin'?"

Victoria furrowed her eyebrows, "Just curiosity."

Truth was, she was curious if she would be able to go back to Bucky's time to see him again, before America entered the war and started the draft. And Elliot was a master at getting what you needed, considering all his connections and his master at anything regarding technology. It was actual a freaky ability, something she would compare to her ability to travel through time (extraordinary; not normal).

"Well, I could probably do all those things. Considering it's the 30's, there are documents I could just copy and alter slightly that would look legit." He shrugged, a sly smile on his lips, eyes turned to his computer screen.

A smile started on her face, "Oh? And how long would that take?"


End file.
